


Over-Worked

by gaysquared



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dubcon Cuddling, FLUFFFFFF, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Momma bear Josephine, Sick Cullen, Sick Fic, but cuddling nonetheless, can cuddling be dubcon?, idk Cullen asks for it but he's super out of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysquared/pseuds/gaysquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen catches a nasty flu because he's been overworking himself. Josephine becomes aggressive momma bear and Dorian cuddles tentatively.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over-Worked

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sick af lately and I realized how touchy-feely I get when I'm out of it and hurting all over when I'm sick, even though I'm usually not a very touchy person, and, well, this fic was born. 
> 
> Featuring Cullen and his curly hair.

At first, Cullen assumes it's just another bout of lyrium withdrawal. The feverishness, the aching limbs, the lightheadedness; all relatively normal for withdrawal. So he goes about his daily business; over-works himself until his throat starts to hurt and his head feels full and his nose starts to drip. But, he's the Commander, and the Inquisition commands constant work from him; he doesn't have time to get sick. 

He sniffles through a council room meeting, constantly trying to hide his leaking nose; and then he falls asleep while the Inquisitor is talking. He's woken by Josephine shaking him violently. The others look at him quizzically, and Josephine lifts a hand to his forehead. 

"You have a fever," she tuts, glaring slightly. "Off to bed with you."

He argues with her all the way up to his chambers; but he's weakened, and she's stronger than she looks, and at one point she threatens to get the Iron Bull if he doesn't cooperate. She practically kicks him into his bed, followed by a couple of healers that enter a moment later. He's not even sure when she called for them. 

"Aches and pains?" one of the healers asks. He nods, and she starts to rummage through her pack for a potion. "For the fever," she says, and hands it to him. He swallows it down, head swimming. 

"It must be the flu that's going around," the healer says to Josephine, who nods. It does make sense, with how closely packed they all live with each other. 

"Can I get out of bed? My fever will be taken care of now," Cullen says, sitting up. 

Josephine eyes him carefully. "No. You'll stay and rest, until you're completely better. This bug's been a bad one."

"But I have work to do," Cullen argues, although Josephine quickly shuts him down. 

"You'll be no use to anyone like this, and you'll only prolong it if you keep pushing yourself." She sighs. "Cassandra and the Inquisitor can handle your duties for a few days."

Cullen sighs, melting back into the bed, the ceiling swirling a bit. "Could I still just--"

"No," Josephine says firmly. "A healer will be back up to bring you some broth soon. Don't you dare move from that bed."

She turns, sending him a brief glare before she walks out of his room. 

His fever has gone down by now, but his body still aches all over, and he shivers; his whole body is sensitive against the the sheets. He puffs out air in a sigh, his nose still terribly clogged. He passes out before the healer shows with food. 

He wakes to see a bowl of broth by his bed, still warm. He indulges himself, takes a few sips, and groans at the pressure it puts on his swollen throat. Still, he drinks until his stomach turns, and finds himself drifting back to sleep. 

The next day, he wakes to more potions for fevers and Josephine explaining to him how Cassandra and the Inquisitor will be handling his duties for the next few days. In all honesty, he doesn't entirely listen to her, his head still swimming, even in the early morning. Still, he appreciates the effort from her to indulge his anxieties. 

Frankly, passing the time when his head starts to clear is boring as all hell. He gets a chance to catch up on the mountainous pile of papers on his desk; he reads through all of them twice. 

Josephine stops by a few times that day, usually with a healer or two, and the Inquisitor also makes a short visit to check on him. Leliana sends him a small yet surprisingly kind note, at least for her, and Varric and Bull pass on a rather crude, well-intentioned message through Josephine. 

He tries to stay awake, but passes out again once the afternoon rolls around. His sleep is rather fitful, dreams even more vivid and strange than usual, but his body is so exhausted that it still seems like the best sleep he's gotten in months. 

It's evening when he wakes, blearily blinking open his eyes. The candles in his room are lit, which he guesses is Josephine's doing, and... Dorian is sitting on his bed. 

He blinks, wondering if he's still having one of those vivid dreams, as he notices Dorian's hand in midair, pulled halfway towards his chest. 

"Oh," he says. "I apologize. I didn't mean to wake you."

Cullen wonders why Dorian's visiting him in the first place. Sure, they've grown closer over the last few months, between chess games and conversations and even weekly shared meals; but Dorian, like Cullen, usually seems like one who keeps to himself. 

"I made some discoveries while doing research," Dorian explains. "The Inquisitor was busy, so I thought I'd come to you instead, but it seems I forgot you haven't been feeling well."

Cullen drops his head back into the pillows, head swimming again. "Hmm." 

His fever has returned, as he hasn't had any medicine for it since the afternoon, and his whole body aches, and his skin itches and crawls with oversensitivity. It's an absolutely detestable feeling, but there isn't much he can do; he barely feels like moving, anyways. He's always been a bit introverted, but he feels himself ache for contact; even he will go a little stir-crazy if left effectively alone for much of the day, with nothing to do. It doesn't help that his temples and wrists and elbows and knees and everywhere throbs with insistent pain as his skin tingles. 

So, ignoring the fact that it seems Dorian is about to say something; probably to ask if he should leave; Cullen scoots over slightly and plops his head into Dorian's lap. He figures he can always just chop it up to his own incoherence, later. 

"Commander?" Dorian asks, his voice up an octave as he freezes in place. Cullen simply hums again. Even the press of thighs again his aching head brings surprisingly relief. 

"I'm sorry," Cullen mumbles, and he certainly doesn't sound sorry. "Everything just hurts so."

"Oh," Dorian says quietly, seemingly unsure. But then he's bringing a hand to rest on Cullen's head, and Cullen offers an encouraging sigh. Thin fingers dig into his hair at that, scratching along his scalp softly. The gel in his hair has long since been rubbed out by tossing and turning in bed, and he figures his head is now a blonde, curly mess, although he can't really seem to care. 

Dorian scratches down to the base of his neck, and the relief of touch radiates throughout Cullen's whole body; it feels simply amazing, and he can't hold back the groan that worms its way past his lips. Dorian stills, surprised yet again, and acts to remove his hand. Cullen groans again, this time out of disappointment, and grabs Dorian's hand before he can get away, and places it firmly back on the top of his head. 

Dorian chuckles at that, warm puffs of air against the back of Cullen's neck, and scratches harder at the crown of Cullen's head. It breaks his awful headache momentarily, and the contact feels so delightful that he finds himself actually moaning. Dorian retracts his hand like it's been set on fire. 

"Commander," he says, clearing his throat, trying to remove Cullen's head from his lap. "I really think it would be more appropriate if I left you to get some rest." 

Cullen is about to protest when Dorian begins to stand, and the Commander does the only thing he can think of; he grabs Dorian's hand. Dorian looks at him wildly, confused, and Cullen swallows around his dry throat, willing up courage. 

With a sudden burst of it, he says, "Could you sleep with me in my bed tonight?"

Dorian blinks, several times, and eyes Cullen as if he might very well be a demon. "Why?" Dorian demands. 

"The fever makes me ache, everywhere," Cullen explains, head already growing heavy again. "The contact of another person feels delightful in comparison. It makes my skin stop crawling."

"Well-- oh," Dorian stammers, looking at the floor. "If you wish, Commander."

"It's not an order," Cullen says, hoping it didn't come off in such a way. "I only wished to ask."

"I see." Dorian clears his throat. "Well, I've always had a hearty constitution, so I'm not likely to get sick, and; well, I don't see why not."

Cullen can't help but smile at that. "Alright then."

He turns over in bed, starts to bury himself beneath thick blankets, and hears Dorian slowly start to take off his doublet and boots behind him. After a few moments, the Mage crawls into bed beside Cullen; and settles two feet away on the mattress. 

"You daft--" Cullen starts, but opts for grabbing Dorian by the arm and pulling him closer. It's a bit harder than he intended, but Dorian simply chuckles; a warm, delicate thing, and Cullen finds he loves the sound. Dorian obeys his command this time, and presses his body tentatively to Cullen's, and the Commander feels himself start to melt into a pile of slime. 

It's absolutely divine, honestly, the contact, even through a couple layers of fabric; Dorian's shirt is silk, and it feels heavenly on his skin. Dorian is warm yet he cools Cullen's heated body, and Cullen sighs into his tentative embrace, increasing the contact and molding himself into Dorian's chest. It's outright wonderful. Cullen sleeps better than he has in years, Dorian's breathing going soft against his neck. 

He wakes in the morning to a surprised yell, and opens his eyes slowly to see Dorian sitting up casually in his bed, and beyond him, a very confused and flustered Josephine, accompanied by a healer. 

"Sorry, darling," Dorian drawls. "I promise I haven't been debasing him; he was simply lonely."

Josephine breathes, calming, although her cheeks are still pink, although mostly with the flush of surprise. Sexual things don't usually fluster her much, no matter how polite she seems, so Cullen gathers that she is probably just quite alarmed. 

"Commander," she says, coughing slightly. "We'll come back in half an hour to check on you. Do... Sort this out, by then, perhaps?" Her eyes look downright pleading. 

"I'm sorry, Josephine, that'll be quite alright," he says earnestly. "I didn't mean to surprise you so."

"That's no matter, Commander," she says, sucking in air. "Well. We'll be back soon, then." With that, she and the healer leave hurriedly from his chambers. 

Dorian immediately bursts into laughter. 

"Oh; oh, I'm sorry," he tries, amid huffs of breath, only to burst out again. "Alright, I am sorry, I do promise. It was simply the look on her face."

Cullen smiles. "She doesn't handle such sudden, unexpected changes to her expectations so well, I'm afraid."

"No, she's simply wonderful, I could never fault her," Dorian says, trying to calm his laughter. "Quite a noble lady, and kind, but she simply was so surprised."

"Indeed she was," Cullen agrees as Dorian calms into a relative silence. 

"But she will be coming back," the Mage says, suddenly soft. "I suppose you want me to leave?"

Cullen blinks. "If you would like to..."

Dorian grimaces. "See, I don't like this part." 

Raising his eyebrows in confusion, Cullen eyes the Mage. "What part?"

Dorian sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Well, to be perfectly honest, the whole catching-feelings-for-a-presumably-straight-superior-officer part," he says softly. 

"Oh." Cullen swallows, trying to adjust, and quickly, to this information. "Feelings? For me?"

"Seeing as I'm in a bed with you, after having cuddled you to sleep, I would say yes," Dorian states, running a hand through his dark hair. 

There's no denying that Cullen has found Dorian attractive for some time; the man is simply handsome; he'd have to be downright blind not to see that. But Dorian is also witty, and intelligent, and the farthest from boring Cullen has ever seen, and he's certainly met plenty of interesting characters. But above all, Dorian has these rare moments where he shows a sad glint of kindness behind his eyes, and it's one of the reasons Cullen has started to appreciate his company more and more. 

"I didn't think--" Cullen tries, and finds himself slightly lost. "I didn't think you'd like me at all, with me being an ex-Templar, and the way I've treated Mages in the past."

Dorian looks like he almost wants to roll his eyes. "And I'm from a noble, Magister, slave-owning Tevinter family. We can't all be saints, now, can we?"

"No, I suppose not," Cullen agrees, huffing out a laugh. 

"You see," Dorian starts, and pauses. "Well, usually when I catch feelings such as these, I simply fuck them out of my system; with or without the target of my fancy, but I'm rather at a loss here."

Cullen can't help but smile. "Well, I certainly wouldn't be opposed to any such acts, but I have a feeling that if I tried to have sex now I might actually shit myself."

The look of disgust on Dorian's face is quickly replaced by hearty laughter. "I would never challenge you to a game of love when you're in such a weak state, Commander," he smiles. "It hardly seems fair."

Cullen smiles as well, his heart feeling light in his chest, even if his head still feels heavy. "Well, we'll simply have to wait until I'm better, then. Although I might advise that you don't go trying to lose any of those feelings, as they might very well be reciprocated."

He sees Dorian grin softly at that, warm and genuine. "Is that so?" the Mage asks. 

Cullen nods. "I do believe it is."

"Well," Dorian says, clearing his throat, still smiling. "I suppose I should get ready for the day ahead. Wouldn't want to give our dear Josephine another fright, now would we?" He chuckles, climbing out of bed to slide back on his overclothes and boots. "I shall see you later, I presume, Commander?" he asks, that grin lighting again. 

"Indeed," Cullen replies, and crawls into the pocket of warmth left in the bed by Dorian's body.

**Author's Note:**

> If you try to stop scratching my head while we're cuddling I will grab your hand and put it right back on my head. I'm an aggressive cuddler. I'll knee you in the fuckin crotch, tbh. (That's actually happened before, I promise.)


End file.
